


The Great Thieves of Karnaca

by BeaconHill



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Corvo Attano Is Thief's Garrett, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, Thief Corvo Attano, Thief Emily Kaldwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaconHill/pseuds/BeaconHill
Summary: When Meagan Foster agreed to take the Empress Emily Kaldwin to Karnaca, she expected she'd be carrying a sheltered noble with little chance of finding the answers she seeks. But Emily grew up on stories of her father's exploits as Karnaca's most notorious thief. He taught her well – and now, with the Empire's future hanging in the balance, she finally has the chance to put her training to use. She's already followed in her mother's footsteps as Empress – now, she'll follow in her father's as the Great Thief of Karnaca.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Great Thieves of Karnaca

The first hint I get that Empress Emily Kaldwin isn't what I expected is when I run into her on the stairway and halfway draw my sword on her before realizing who she is.  
  
She isn't wearing the court finery she'd had on when she climbed onto the deck of the _Wale_. Instead, she wears a heavy cloak, amorphous and dark grey, the deep, shady hood up. Beneath it, she has a thin scarf over her mouth and nose and a black, many-pocketed vest, the outlines of weapons bulging at her waist. The uniform of a thief in the night, or maybe an assassin, but certainly not an Empress.  
  
"Whoa," she says, quickly backstepping as she sees my hand twitch, pulling down her hood and scarf. "Sorry, I... probably should have warned you."  
  
"What are _you_ doing in a getup like that, _your Majesty_?" I ask. "Do you _mean_ to look like a thief? Where did you even get that?"  
  
"It's from my emergency bag," she says. "Brought it with me. And, yes – I _do_ mean to look like a thief."  
  
For the first time in years, I stare open-mouthed.  
  
"As to why..." She locks her fingers together. "After the plague, Corvo wanted us to be prepared for anything. His face spent years on Wanted posters. We decided that if it happened again, the easiest way to deal with it was to vanish into the crowd."  
  
I nod slowly.  
  
"There are a lot of Serkonan blackguards in the Isles. No one much questions who they are, where they're going, why their faces are covered. It's perfect. Corvo always was good at making plans." She smiles weakly. "I'm not _actually_ Serkonan like my father is" — my mouth forms into an O at hearing the old palace rumor confirmed so blithely — "but I look the part well enough when I'm out of courtly dress, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"I thought you were an intruder," I admit. She does look Serkonan. Even living under Dunwall clouds, her skin is a few shades darker than the usual Gristol pallor. And while she takes more after her mother than after – apparently – her father, there's still something about her features that speaks of the South. I just hadn't noticed before, because... well, when you look at a fancy Dunwall noble, you just _expect_ them to look Gristol-bred, through and through. But when you look at a thief in the night, you expect the opposite.  
  
"Speaking of which..." She takes a deep breath. "There is an accent that goes with this," she says, and suddenly she's _talking in it_. She sounds genuinely Serkonan, so much so I'd think she'd grown up with her father in the Dust District. "Sound good enough for you?"  
  
"Yeah. Definitely."  
  
"I'm gonna try keeping this up the rest of the ride," she adds, gesturing vaguely. "You mind telling me if it slips? I practiced this with Corvo, but... that was a long time ago."  
  
"Of course," I say, smiling crookedly. Guess this trip is going to be a little more interesting than I had expected.  
  
We might actually get somewhere in this crazy mission, if Emily has the skills to back up the look.  
  
~~  
  
I'm walking around the deck, checking on the ship after dropping anchor, when the hairs on the back of my neck go up. I pull out my sword, swiveling around – I learned a long time ago to trust my instincts – but it still takes far too long to spot a too-deep shadow behind the paddlewheel. I raise my sword and advance toward it – when Emily pulls her hood down.  
  
"Hey, Meagan," she says, dropping gracefully to the deck beside me. "Sorry if I spooked you."  
  
I groan. "Are you _trying_ to get me to stab you, your Majesty? Because this is twice in two days."  
  
"Just practicing," she says. "Like Corvo said to. Don't worry, I'll warn you if you if you get too close."  
  
"Your father told you to practice your lurking?" I ask skeptically.  
  
"Yup," Emily replies, smiling wistfully. "He gave me a whole list of skills to practice, if I ever ended up in another situation like this. Lurking, climbing, falling..." She ticks them off with her fingers. "Oh, do you mind if I shoot some bottles off the stern?" she asks, drawing her cloak aside to gesture to her crossbow.  
  
"As long as you clean up the broken glass, and you don't break anything else."  
  
"Will do, thanks!" she says. "Oh, and... got any locks you don't mind me practicing on?" She pulls out a set of lockpicks in a worn leather case.  
  
I stare for just a moment. By the Void – Corvo Attano really did teach her to be a thief, didn't he? "Go with the door to the deck," I finally manage. "So there's another one, in case you break the lock."  
  
"Understood."  
  
"But just... explain to me." I stare her in the eyes. "Why do you _know_ all this?"  
  
Emily smiles sheepishly, leaning back against the paddlewheel. "What stories have you heard about what Corvo did during the plague years?" she asks.  
  
"Lots of them," I say. "They make out like he's some kind of super-spy. Breaking into places unseen and unheard, stealing information, showing up out of nowhere to kill the ringleaders of the coup. Some say he consorted with the Outsider. Never been sure how much of that was bullshit."  
  
Emily laughs bleakly, rubbing the back of her gloved left hand. "It's true enough that Corvo fought – for me and for the Empire. He hoped he'd always be there to do the fighting for me, but..." She bites her lip, looking down the canal. "He knew better than most that it doesn't always work out that way. So he wanted me to be ready if I ever needed to fight for the Isles myself. I'm glad he did, or I'd be in trouble."  
  
I'm glad, too. I'd never expected her to be useless – her father's reputation saw to that – but I'll admit, I didn't have high hopes, either. In the old days, that wouldn't have been a problem – I used to be _more_ than good enough to handle this on my own. But even I can't run missions missing a hand and an eye. No, Emily's going to have to save her own empire. It's good that she knows it.  
  
"You want my help with dinner tonight?" she asks.  
  
"Sure," I say. "Why not."  
  
The Empress isn't the greatest in the kitchen – she'd never before seen the inside of one, no surprises there. Corvo may have taught her a lot, but cooking clearly wasn't among his lessons. Still, she tries. Better than doing it all myself.  
  
She strips off her cloak, leaving it on the table outside. I do the same with my jacket – I know from experience, it's all-too-easy to get dinner all over them. But as she gets started chopping up ingredients, I realize that her arms are bare – her vest is sleeveless. And that there's something missing from her hands.  
  
"Where's your ring?" I ask, as she starts chopping up a fish.  
  
"Oh!" She turns back to me, and pulls something out from under her vest – the ring, dangling from a leather cord around her neck. "Here it is. It's the Imperial Signet Ring, so I always want to have it with me, but Corvo would be so mad if I wore this on my finger." She smiles, wry and sad. " _No sparkling, Emily!_ " she intones in a deep voice. "Apparently guards are great at noticing sparkles. So I'll keep it with me, but... hidden." She looks down at the ring as she tucks it back into her shirt. "Like everything else about who I used to be."  
  
~~  
  
In retrospect, I should have realized that something was up long before Emily's cloak knocked into the doorway and _clanked_.  
  
"How much stuff do you _have_ in there?" I ask, assessing the cloak. There's a little smear of blood on it, but nothing too bad – I used to get my cloak much dirtier on my missions, back in the old days. The amorphous bulginess, however, is new to me. We never did much go in for robbery.  
  
"Oh, you'll see," she says with a smirk, clearing off the table. She's almost jittering with excitement, absolutely wired – _post-mission high_ , I realize wonderingly. Never expected that from the _Empress_. And then she starts pulling stuff out of her cloak.  
  
And pulling more stuff out of her cloak.  
  
And then pulling stuff out of her _vest_.  
  
By the time she's finished, dusting her hands off, the pile covers the entire table. There's an enormous mound of spare change. A heap of odds and ends – whale oil, copper wire, blood amber, and the like. There's jewelry, delicate statuettes, whole ingots of gold and silver. There are seven rolled-up paintings, most of them looking like Sokolovs – and is that a _Delilah Copperspoon_ painting? – not to mention a sack full of so much whalebone, both carved and uncarved, that an Overseer would probably shoot her on the spot just for having it. This has to be at _least_ five grand worth of stuff, and she somehow fit it all in her damn coat.  
  
I can't help but gape at the enormous pile. I've met some good thieves, but this... this is on a whole 'nother _level_. Burgling all this stuff in just the five hours she's been off the _Wale_ – it's like the stories they used to tell about Garrett One-Eye, the legendary thief of Karnaca.  
  
"Did you just steal half the Institute?" I ask, my voice weak with disbelief.  
  
She sticks her nose up in the air in mock disdain. "When the _Empress_ does it," she says, "it's taxation."  
  
I blink. "You're not _serious_?"  
  
And then Emily busts up laughing. Guess not.  
  
"Look," I say, "it's great that you had fun on your mission, but can we focus on the _goal_ here, please?"  
  
Emily flinches like she's been slapped. Right – she's fighting for her father and her empire. It can't be easy for her, coming back to that reality.  
  
I look away, sigh. "Sorry. That was too harsh."  
  
"No," she says, her voice choked up, like she's trying not to cry. "You weren't wrong."  
  
I watch her sympathetically for a while, but while I know she's hurting, she doesn't show it, glaring back at me with challenge in her eyes. "All right," I say finally. "If you say so. Also..." I grimace as I turn back to Emily's pile. "I know I said I had connections, but I'm really not sure I can move all this stuff."  
  
"I can handle that," Emily says. "I've been making my own connections." At my skeptical look, she smiles weakly. "No, I've never fenced a thing in my life, but I have some advice from my father and some names to drop."  
  
"What, like _Kaldwin_?"  
  
"No! No way. Not with crooks."  
  
"Are you sure the people you're talking to are legit?" I ask archly. "There are a lot of people out there who'd be glad to cheat you."  
  
"As near as I can be. Father knew him well – even if it was a long time ago."  
  
"What's his name?" I ask. I'm no thief myself, but I do know a lot of people. If I don't know who Emily's talking about, I can probably have them checked out.  
  
"He's an old fence named Basso."  
  
I blink. " _Really_? You're sure you haven't been taken in?" When Emily raises an eyebrow, I continue. "The real Basso is a legend – fenced for the great sneak thieves of Karnaca, back in the day. I don't think he even handles stolen goods directly any more – he's a mostly-legitimate merchant now. How'd you even get in to see him?"  
  
Emily smirks. "Through the skylight."  
  
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I walked into that one," I admit. "Really, though, why'd he listen to you?"  
  
"Because he owes my father," she says. "They'd set up passwords long ago. And, yes, Father gave me his address. And, besides" — Emily gestures to the pile — "I have every intention of making this profitable for him, too."  
  
Emily notices my frown, reaches out and touches my hand.  
  
"Look. Don't worry about me, okay? I'm not as naive as you think, and yeah, I know it'll take a while before you believe me there. Just take me into Karnaca tomorrow, let me work this out, and let my sack of coins be the evidence."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was beta read by TheSleepingKnight and GlassGirlCeci, who receive thieves' cloaks.
> 
> So I finally got around to playing _Dishonored 2_ recently, and quite enjoyed it. That should be fairly obvious. Here, I decided to cross it over with _Thief_ , the game's '90s spiritual ancestor. In particular, I wanted to see a game where the two series' sneaky, stabby protagonists were the same person, particularly now that they have the same voice actor in _Dishonored 2_.
> 
> To explain the mechanics of the crossover a bit, Corvo Attano is an alias of _Thief_ 1 and 2's Garrett. The city of those games is Karnaca, with some of the factions replaced by _Dishonored_ equivalents – witches replace Pagans (though note that the Trickster is a different deity from the Outsider and is still dead) and Overseers replace Hammerites and Mechanists. Note that _Thief_ 3 is not included in the crossover because it develops the Keepers into a more major faction, but I don't have a good place for them in Karnaca.
> 
> Is it obvious that I'm fond of Arkane yet?


End file.
